4/19/2021
Covid communications and the Truth: Handle with care
This past week, the CDC and FDA recommended a pause in use of Johnson & Johnson’s Covid-19 vaccine as it investigates “cases of a rare and severe type of blood clot in individuals after receiving the…vaccine.”
Stop using the J&J product until experts evaluate a previously unknown potential risk. No-brainer, right? Failing to pause and communicate the information would be both immoral and an unforgivable breach of trust.
But, based on a career of crafting corporate messages about difficult subjects, I’m guessing the decision was hotly debated.
In every organization, some subset of decision-makers always want to sit on negative information. In this case, they’d argue that the risk seemed small—the number of people reporting blood clots was less one per million doses. And what if it turned out the blood clotting was unrelated to the vaccine? Pausing before all the data had been sifted could feed the disinformation machine and further raise concerns among those who already were hesitant to be vaccinated, at all.
As I said, an immoral position. But even as a matter of pure pragmatism, it wouldn’t work. Secrets—especially secrets that potentially impact the health and welfare of a large number of people—tend to find their way out. When that happens the organization is seen as a less-credible source about both the matter in question and other information it may subsequently release.
Acting and communicating as the CDC and FDA did probably will make it harder to convince the doubters they should vaccinate. But the fallout from failing to act and communicate candidly would be much, much worse.
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4/12/2021
Augie’s Dramatic Career Upswing:
Can Stuff Like That Really Happen?
In Chapter 7 of my flash novel Lost in Pittsburgh Augie, whose career had flat lined for decades, becomes a member of his company’s executive team.
As I worked out the plotting, I wondered about plausibility. Why hadn’t Augie long ago looked for a better opportunity elsewhere? And why had his ability gone unrecognized to that point?
Since I stuck with that scenario—yeah, I think it’s plausible.
In terms of Augie’s talent going unrecognized... Well, gosh. That happens all the time, in organizations large and small. Managers may assume that, if a person hasn’t advanced more than x over some period of time, they never will. Also, pains in the backside like Augie rarely get promotions. (Which often leads them to become even bigger pains in the backside.)
Why didn’t Augie take the initiative, find another place to work where he’d be more appreciated? Inertia, maybe. It’s a hassle to move from one employer to another. And, possibly, fear of the unknown. You know what they say about the grass looking greener.
Augie’s dramatic rise, while rare, could happen.
Although, as we’re starting to see in the novel, that can come at a cost.
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4/4/2021
Remembrance of an Easters Past
Easter of …Let’s say, the mid Nineteen-Fifties…
My small self and tinier-still little brother stand in the driveway wearing topcoats, just like Dad’s, over newly purchased “good” clothes we will outgrow before there will be an occasion to wear them again. Our fedoras, while cute, are ineffective against the early spring chill.
Dad, starts his 8 mm camera and Mom, obviously expecting my little sister in a few months, stands beside him. “Come toward the camera, boys,” she says.
I do as I’m told, performing a silly walk while making a sillier face. My brother notices, and does the same. This displeases our parents, but not enough to withhold baskets full of chocolate bunnies and marshmallow chicks.
More candy than any child should possess at one time.
My brother and I—and eventually our sister—will remake the same film every year.
Until early in my junior high school career, when I decide I am too old for such foolishness.
But the basket full of more candy than any child should possess at one time— I'm still not too old for that.
3/28/2021
Lost in Pittsburgh: Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
I know a young man who, returning home from his first few months of college, met up with his high school buddies. Afterward, a little sadly, he reflected, “Those guys have not changed at all."
Sometimes, like that young man, we recognize big changes in ourselves. But it seems to me that important changes tend to creep up on us, often the result of random experiences.
Take Augie Olszewski, for instance, one of the major characters in Lost in Pittsburgh. (Chapter 6 now posted. All available chapters free to read.)
Augie, an amiable cynic with an anti-authority streak, had been phoning it in at work for decades. Then the CEO plucks him out of obscurity and, by Chapter 6, he’s the big boss’s go-to person. He voluntarily works long hours and cares about his job—not a bad thing, in itself. But in the process, Augie’s empathy has taken a big hit. Nina, his significant other, wonders, “Who or what was Augie becoming?”
Also in Chapter 6, as Nina’s successful career as a mutual fund manager seems to be slipping away, she’s ch-ch-ch-ch-changing, too—albeit in less obvious ways. Watching TV footage of protestors on television, she reflects on what might have been: “There were nuns among the protestors—could’ve been me, if things had played out differently”
Back to the future? Stay tuned.
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3/21/2021
Three Lessons from the Pandemic
There’s a saying in politics: Never let a good crisis go to waste.
In the political context, cynical as hell. But it might just be a sentiment we can leverage with regard to the pandemic. The war against Covid is far from won. But in the aftermath and going forward, here are three lessons we might consider applying.
Public health matters. In the U.S. and elsewhere, much pandemic suffering and death has been a direct result of government lack of preparedness. Less failure to plan, as failure to execute contingency plans already in place. For lack of equipment stockpiles. For tardiness to focus. For hoping the bad stuff would all go away…as if hope and neglect were a strategy.
So do people who do the “invisible” stuff. Health care workers, first responders and all those whose efforts have made the pandemic less awful than it might have been deserve our heartfelt thanks and admiration. But where would we be without the folks who deliver packages, stock shelves, haul away trash? People whose jobs don’t pay much, for the most part. How about showing our thanks by providing a living wage?
And please: Let’s give each other a break. Angry recriminations don’t change minds. Ditto even the most cogent, fact-filled argument. Listening to and understanding others is the key. Pretty hard, this business of changing our hearts. But arguably the key to fixing everything else.
Next time: Chapter 6 of the flash novel Lost in Pittsburgh. The first five chapters are available, and you can read a summary of chapters 1-4 in the 3/14/2021 blog post, just below this one.
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3/14/2021
Lost in Pittsburgh: The Story So Far…
I just posted Chapter 5 of the flash novel, Lost in Pittsburgh. This is the story of Augie and Nina, significant others whose lives and values will be challenged in ways they never foresaw.
If you haven’t caught up on the first four chapters—less than 1,000 words each—I hope you’ll take a read. But for those looking for a “Cliff Notes” version of the story so far…
The setting is Pittsburgh, during the summer of 2009, the first year of the Great Recession. The G20, leaders of the world’s largest economies, plan to meet there in September.
Augie has been coasting through a mediocre career as a promotional writer at a mortgage company. For years he and his best friend, Alan Bessler, had stoked each other’s cynicism and collaborated on modestly subversive practical jokes at the office. Augie’s big chance comes when the CEO Fred Newcomb, having just fired his former speechwriter, turns to Augie in a pinch. Could this be the start of something big? Pick up the story in Chapter 5.
Nina, once close to becoming a nun, was asked to leave. Twenty years on, she’s a successful mutual fund manager. Her fund always had performed quite well, but in the previous quarter she’d topped her category for the first time. But far from being joyful, Nina feels depressed and doesn’t know why. In Chapter 5, she figures it out and plans her next move.
By way of other background…Two years earlier Chaim Minsker, a neighbor and mutual friend of Augie and Nina, was worried about his failing neighborhood stationery store. Chaim’s plan to turn things around required financing. But no bank would give him a business loan, so in that era of easy money he mortgaged the home his grandfather built. Nina and Augie try to talk Chaim out of taking such a big of risk, but he gets the mortgage, anyway. We’ll get back to Chaim’s situation in a future chapter.
And, as always, if you know someone who might be interested in Lost in Pittsburgh or any of the free stories on this site, please send them a link.
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3/7/2021
After Winning the War vs. Covid,
Will We Do What It Takes to Win the Peace?
The most life-changing of events can seem ordinary at the time. For instance, a single date while I was in college led to a happy marriage now in its fifth decade.
Less-positive stuff can show up that way, too. The current unpleasantness, for instance.
I don’t think anyone knows exactly when the pandemic began. But it started to get real for me almost exactly a year ago. I was attending a funeral and, (per custom in those days), the other attendees and I shook hands.
One person—and one person only—used hand-sanitizer after each touch. I decided I should start doing that, too.
And the rest—masks, distancing, frequent hand-washing, et al—is, as they say, history.
I’m a news junky, and from what I gather most scientists figure we’ll eventually beat Covid. But given uncertainties like vaccine distribution snafus, mistrust and mutation of the virus itself, no one’s foolish enough to forecast a date for the end of this war.
Even so, after V-Day, what might “normal” look like?
Lots of us long to once again hug loved ones we don’t live with. Enjoy unmasked gatherings with family and friends. Have an unworried meal in a restaurant.
The good old days, right?
But here’s the thing. Some aspects of those pre-pandemic days were awful. For instance, the gap between rich and poor was widening then, and has yawned wider still over the past year. Racial tensions, already on the rise, have only worsened. And equal access to health care remains more concept than reality.
Eventually, we’ll win the war against Covid.
Afterward, will we do what takes to win the peace?
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3/1/2021
Flash Novel, Chapter 4
Ever have a day when you feel lousy, even though you should feel great? That’s Nina’s dilemma in Chapter 4 of the flash novel Lost in Pittsburgh. To celebrate a big career accomplishment, co-workers take Nina out for drinks. But that doesn’t change her mood. So what the heck’s going on? Check out any or all of the first four chapters here.
Coming up: Chapter 5. In the next installment, Augie’s career seems to be taking off. And Nina thinks she’s solved a big problem. So what could go wrong?
Vaxxing, Part II: I got my second COVID vaccination this week. Some people have felt lousy afterward for a day or two, but all I had was a slightly achy arm for a day. From what I hear and read, the more of us who are vaccinated, the less chance for the virus to mutate into something even more awful. And the sooner all of us can get back some version of a normal life. Bottom line: If you’re eligible, get the blessed shot.
PS: I used to help large organizations communicate with their stakeholders. While pandemic-related communication under President Biden has been infinitely superior to that of his predecessor, much of it still has been muddled and confusing. Is it easier to be an armchair quarterback than execute on the field? Oh, yeah. Even so, sometime soon I’ll devote a blog to second-guessing what’s gone wrong and how to fix it.
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2/22/2021
Reality is an Allusion
A college lit teacher reports that her students—literature majors, for crying out loud—simply ignore allusions—passing references to a person, event, thing or part of another text. In doing so, they often miss the point, or at least much of the point.
How do allusions work? Consider the film version of The Wizard of Oz. Near the end of the movie Dorothy, having learned there’s no place like home, clicks her heels three times to get back to the place she belongs.
But suppose a fictional character in another film or story or poem says, “I did not to click my heels three times.” By making a choice different from Dorothy’s, the character implies that he or she already is in the right place. (Even if that place is bizarre as Oz.)
Or, at the risk of being both self-referential and self-serving, consider my flash novel, Lost in Pittsburgh. A cop asks Augie, the main character, “Sir, why are you here?” In return, Augie asks if the officer is an existentialist.
Kind of amusing, (at least, I think so).
Augie understands the cop is asking a literal question, but chooses to respond as if it were the beginning of a philosophical discussion. More to the point, existentialists believe—and sure, this is an enormous oversimplification—but existentialists believe that we define our own meaning, that what we are is what we decide to be. Over the course of the narrative, Augie will have to decide the kind of person he wants to be.
But suppose a reader who knows nothing about Wizard finds the clicking of heels three times an odd turn of phrase. Nearly everyone has a phone, right? A web search of click heels three times brings up more than 33 million results. Existentialist turns up nearly 10 million hits. Petrarch: 3 million. Pandora: 255 million. And on, and on.
Here’s the point: Allusions nuance and/or add to a reader’s appreciation of a narrative or poem. Without them, a lot of writing might end up weary, stale, flat and unprofitable.
Next time: Chapter 4 of the flash novel, Lost in Pittsburgh. Career-wise, Nina’s at the top of her game. So what’s bugging her?
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2/7/2021
Happy Anniversary!
This site went live one year ago this month.
In some ways, it’s gone exactly as I expected. You (and anyone else) can now read nearly two dozen flash fiction stories for free, usually with a blog commentary on each story as it posts. And a number of readers have gotten in touch with me to comment, criticize or just make an observation. Please keep it coming!
One difference I didn’t foresee was in blog topics during weeks without a new story post. During those weeks, I planned to write about writing. Sometimes I did that. But just after the site went live, all hell broke loose: Pandemic. Divisive politics. Overt hatred at a mind-blowing level. So the blog also sometimes addressed those issues.
Where does the site go from here? Maybe some more experiments, like the flash novel Lost in Pittsburgh, the first two chapters of which you can read here. (Chapter three should be along in a week, or so.)
But what do you think? Let me hear from you about what to start, stop or continue. And, I’m always looking for more readers. If you know someone else who might like what we do here, please send them a link to something you've enjoyed.
Coming up: Chapter 3 of Lost in Pittsburgh
As noted above, Chapter 3 will be along soon. In chapters 1-2 we met the two main characters. Augie Olszewski is a cynic in late middle age who’s been meandering through life. The meandering—that’s going to change for Augie and the people around him, in ways they can’t imagine. Nina Frey is a successful mutual fund manager and self-described “alpha,” who once thought she wanted to be a nun. Big changes in store for her, too.
Stay tuned.
1/31/2021
Flash Novel Chapter Two: Meet Nina Frey:
Mutual Fund Manager and Ex-Nun
(Plus, a Report on Being Vaxxed)
Chapter Two of my flash novel, Lost in Pittsburgh, is from the point of view of Nina Frey. She’s the significant other of Augie Olszewski, whom you met in Chapter One.
Nina is a successful mutual fund manager, a self-described “alpha.” Why would she get involved with an unambitious cynic like Augie? For that matter, why was Nina once a nun? And why was she asked to leave?
Check out either or both chapters here.
On being Vaxxed
This week I got my first dose of COVID vaccine at a site run by the local hospital where I’d signed up.
Like most people, I want all the immunity I can get. But the invitation did present a sort of ethical dilemma. Other than being over 65—and, yeah, overweight—I’m not particularly at risk. Would someone else benefit more from the dose I received?
From what I’d read, people who know more about this stuff than I do urged anyone offered the vaccination to take it. So I did.
I masked-up, went to the location and stood in a distanced line for about 20 minutes to register. Registration probably took less than five minutes. Then, maybe 10 minutes later I received the vaccination, itself.
Pretty much like a routine flu shot. I understand that others sometimes feel lousy for the next day or two. But all I had was a little arm soreness, which went away in less than 48 hours.
The New York Times has an excellent Q/A all about the vaccine. Check it out here.
Totally unsolicited advice: If you’re eligible but haven’t yet signed up for the vaccine, check your state or local health department to find out how and get into the queue. When the offer comes, make an appointment. And keep it.
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Read Lost in Pittsburgh
1/24/2021
Of Interesting Times…and Other Random Thoughts
Insurrection. Impeachment. COVID vaccine snafus.
How is everyone else enjoying 2021, so far? Do you keep remembering that ancient curse: May you live in interesting times?
I was mulling the curse when I remembered a line from the movie, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Pure fantasy, but fun. Set in the early days of the 20th Century the hero, played by an aging Sean Connery, is warned by a much younger man that the British Empire is in peril. Connery says, “You're too young to know this, but the empire is always in some sort of peril.”
As a nation—as a species, for crying out loud—we face a host of vexing problems whose solutions are complex as they are elusive. We’ve always been in some sort of peril. We got past those times. Can we do it again?
Baseball’s Hank Aaron died this week. He was great player, a quietly effective civil rights advocate and, from what I read, a Hall-of-Fame human being. I couldn’t help thinking of three less-famous people taken by COVID—people who lived on the same block I do. Not to mention the two million others I’ve never met. John Donne, a contemporary of Shakespeare, said it best when he wrote that the death of anyone…
…diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
On a less-somber note, Chapter 2 of my flash novel, Lost in Pittsburgh, will go up in a week or so. In the meantime, you can read Chapter 1 now. (Should take only about five minutes of your time. Maybe less.) In that chapter you’ll meet Augie Olszewski, a cynic in late middle age who’d been meandering through life. The meandering—that’s going to change for Augie and the people around him, in ways they can’t imagine.
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1/17/2021
Submitted for Your Approval:
Chapter One of a New Flash Novel
I hope you’ll check out the first chapter of my “flash novel,” Lost in Pittsburgh.
Just as “flash” short stories are considerably shorter than traditional stories, a flash novel—this one, at least—is shorter than a traditional novel. You can probably read a chapter in less than five minutes.
Chapter One introduces Augie Olszewski, a cynic in late middle age who’d been meandering through life. The meandering—that’s going to change for Augie in ways they can’t imagine.
A couple of personal notes. The novel is set in the Pittsburgh area, where I lived for more than a dozen years. It’s a nice town, with lots of nice people. But, as Augie observes, the area’s quirky roads and interstates can be very tough to navigate. Like him, I was often literally lost in Pittsburgh.
Another observation…In Chapter One Augie has a confrontation of sorts with a cop. At first, Augie plays it for laughs and the policeman is patient. I wrote that section a few years before police violence against people of color was the issue it rightfully has become (and should have been a long time ago). It didn’t occur to me then, but now—with all that has happened since, and on the eve of Martin Luther King Day—I see the scene as a sort of study in White privilege.
In Chapter Two, which probably will go up in a couple of weeks, we meet Nina Frey. She’s Augie’s significant other, a former nun who now is a successful investment manager.
I hope you like this first chapter and those to come. As always, anyone who’s requested it will receive an email notice for this and all new content on the website as it’s added. If you’d like to join that email list, (and I hope you do), you can let me know here.
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1/11/2021
At a Loss for Words?
Maybe 50 years from now a brilliant PhD candidate will find words, (lots of words, if it’s a dissertation), to explain what happened at the Capitol last week.
There probably will be a long chapter or two about what we as a people did after that.
The usual pundit suspects of all political stripes have busily put forth their own solutions. Most require other people to come to their senses. Change their beliefs. Think differently.
I can’t help reflect back on a couple of personal experiences. In one, a self-improvement course instructor often posed a question: Who can you change? The answer, of course, is no one but yourself.
How to change? A clergyman once suggested praying for a person I strongly disliked. Thoughts lead to action, and it’s hard to work against someone on whose behalf you’ve petitioned The Almighty. For those who don’t pray, consider sending positive energy that person’s way. Same principle.
None of this is to excuse violence, hatred or prejudice.
But it is to suggest that fixing the mess we're in begins with trying to figure out where those with whom we disagree are coming from. Not so much to be understood as to understand.
PS: The next fiction post will be an experiment, of sorts. Not a short story, but the first chapter of a flash novel—10,000 words or so, with no chapter longer than 1,000 words. Free to read, as always. If you’ve already asked for notification of new content, you’ll automatically get an email when I post. If you haven’t asked for notification, you can check out the site any time, or sign up for an alert here.
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12/30/2020
Blogger Courageously Refuses to Follow Year-End Pattern
One of my holiday-related irritations is the tendency of TV, radio, newspapers and bloggers to basically take the week off by recycling their old stuff. Think headlines like “Best of,” “Year in Review,” and on and on.
That’s certainly something I could do on this blog. For instance, I could write about three of my favorite stories on 2020. Something like:
Babysitting Michael. A pair of aging hippies demonstrate non-violent confrontation for their young grandson. Remember Chicago in '68? Perfect for boomers who lived through the sixties, and non-boomers who wish they had. If the story had background music, it would be the Beatles’ “When I’m 64.” But in a minor key.
The English-Only Rule. Set in Detroit during the Depression, the daughter of Polish immigrants comes of age. Like “Babysitting Michael,” this narrative is wistful and even funny in places. While the ending here is sad, I happen to think it’s fairly positive. See if you agree.
Raptured. A treat for your inner-cynic. Getting fired in this workplace occurs at the end of the day. By morning, all evidence one ever worked there will have been erased. Tragedy? Maybe not in this case.
See how easy it is to take what’s already exists and re-purpose it for an end-of-year blog?
I also could ask readers to write and tell me about their favorite stories on this site. A post consisting mostly of their comments would allow me to take yet another week off.
But that’s not something I’d ever stoop to. No way.
Happy New Year, everyone! And please read responsibly.
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12/20/2020
About the story “Epiphany”
Spoiler alert: This blog is full of details about “Epiphany.”
In Christian tradition, three astrologers came to Bethlehem in search of the Christ child. The story many of us are familiar with is short on details, so I filled in a few.
As a believer, I struggled with this piece. I constantly second-guessed myself, wondering if what I’d written was consistent with that I believe.
For instance, the main character is a cynic, a con-artist who uses astrology to separate the gullible from their money. Is that okay?
I think so. Nothing in the official chronicle suggests any of the magi had fewer flaws than the rest of us. More important, in the end, the main character makes three choices, choosing rightly each time. First, setting personal risk aside, he concocts a plan to save the infant Jesus from death at the hands of King Herod. Second, he give up his con and opens a legitimate business in a backwater where his family will be safe, should the king seek vengeance.
But that plan has unforeseen consequences, leading to choice #3. Herod, still unable to identify the specific infant he considers a threat to his throne, kills every boy in Bethlehem under the age of two. Feeling responsible for that atrocity, the main character considers suicide. He’s about to hang himself. But—choice #3—he remembers his duty to be a father to his own son, and decides to live.
I wrestled with the conclusion more than any part of the story. As the son comes of age, a reader familiar with Christian tradition understands something the main character doesn’t. His son is Judas, Christ’s betrayer.
The man who saved Jesus fathers the man who gave him up. I suppose you could read that—or even the whole story—as suggesting individuals have no agency.
But another view—my view—is just the opposite. The story is full of choices. Bad stuff can flow from good decisions; good stuff from bad ones. Who among us knows our place in history?
There’s a saying: People plan and God laughs. The best we can do is make a good choice in the moment.
Happy holidays, everyone. Stay safe.
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12/15/2020
There's Tech...and Then There's Tech
So, my phone died and I went without it for a week.
Don’t worry. This will not be yet more blah-blah about rediscovering the joys of silence, the simple pleasure of time to reflect, or living in the real. (Not even sure why a phone would necessarily be an impediment to those things. But, hey, that’s just me.)
My phone problem did get me to thinking about technology and the way we adapt. Two of my grandparents lived from the era of the horse-and buggy into Space Age—the kind of change that could’ve been be
wildering. But as far as I can tell, none of that set their heads to spinning.
Then I started to think about myself. (Funny how that happens.) When I was born, writers like me smithed words on a typewriter. Revision is the key to good writing. But in those days, if you wanted to revise much, you started over with a blank sheet of paper. Time-consuming, not to angst-inducing when a deadline loomed.
Then came word processors. Giant machines whose commands you had to memorize to get what you wanted. But once you did that, revision was a dream. Eventually, desktop computers and software made the job even easier and the finished produce better than it otherwise would have been.
On the other hand, my own parents never did quite figure out how to use the internet and rarely removed their cell phones from a drawer. They got all the information they thought they needed from TV and newspapers. By that time they didn’t travel much, so a mobile phone had little to offer over a landline.
Some folks like new tech just because it’s bright and shiny. That’s fine. But the rest of us get interested only about stuff that actually improves our lives.
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11/30/2020
Cliché of the Year: A [Fill in the Blank] Like No Other?
Notice how often the phrase like no other creeps into news reports and conversations? A public health crisis like no other. A divisive political climate like no other. An economy like no other.
Like no other is rapidly acquiring the status of a cliché.
To be sure, clichés achieve their status because there’s a good deal of truth to them. Most of us know at least one person struck by COVID. Partisan politics have divided families and ended friendships. Economic hard times threaten immediate calamity for some, even as it exacerbates the chasm between the richest and poorest Americans.
But is this really a time like no other?
Where pandemics are concerned, early in the Twentieth Century the Spanish flu took countless lives and disrupted whole societies. Political divisiveness? During the American Civil War, family members took up arms against each other. Meanwhile, the Great Depression remains a benchmark for economic catastrophe.
So why do we persist in describing our time as like no other? Probably because what most of us know about other horrible events comes from history books, rather than experience.
To cite another cliché, this time, it’s personal.
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11/24/2020
Thanksgiving, Robinson Crusoe, and a Glass Half-Full?
When I started this blog, I promised myself not to write about the usual stuff around holidays. Well, this Thanksgiving I’m going rogue.
2020 has been the most difficult year many of us have lived through. Hopefully, the toughest any of us will ever experience.
Remember Robinson Crusoe? Shipwrecked and alone on an island, he made a list of “evil” and “good” things—things for which he was thankful. It begins:
Evil: I am cast upon a horrible, desolate island, void of all hope of recovery.
Good: But I am alive; and not drowned, as all my ship’s company were.
Evil: I am singled out and separated, as it were, from all the world, to be miserable.
Good: But I am singled out, too, from all the ship’s crew, to be spared from death…
A glass-half-full kinda guy, this Crusoe.
Our individual lists will vary. But broadly speaking, here’s one way to look at where we stand today. (Crusoe’s “Evil” is a freighted word in modern English, so let’s rename that category “bad.” )
Bad: We’re in the midst of a pandemic that has caused more death and suffering than any of us could have imagined. It’s unsafe to visit in person with loved ones outside our own household, a particular hardship during the holidays.
Good: But we’re told three effective vaccines are on the way. In the meantime, masks plus distancing plus hygiene can help slow COVID’s spread. Podding can be a mixed bag, but in many cases it’s brought us closer to each other. And many now have a better appreciation for workers we may have taken for granted. Health-care folks, for sure. But also those who stock and deliver groceries, postal workers, people who bring packages to our doorstep. (An incomplete summary, but you get the idea.)
Bad: Politically, we’re as deeply divided as at any time since the Civil War. Friends are no longer friends, and some family members no longer speak to each other.
Good: But voter participation reached new highs in November. More Americans than ever understand that policy and the people who implement it matter to them, personally. The twists and turns of the post-election season have been a giant civics lesson for many of us.
Bad: Job losses, foreclosures, and business closings in a time of pandemic—economically, many are suffering through no fault of their own.
Good: But maybe—just maybe—more of us have a better understanding of the gaps in “safety net” programs and the ever-widening chasm between the obscenely rich and everyone else. Maybe—again, just maybe—the experience will lead to better policy all around.
This list, of course, is just the tip of the iceberg.
Readers: What do you think? Drop me a line.
In the meantime, have a great holiday! And stay safe.
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11/16/2020
Public Broadcasting: Keeping “Viewers Like You”
I was thinking about a writing a short story in which public broadcasting would be an element when I received a fund-raising email from the local PBS affiliate: Philos + Anthropos. Show us some love.
I smiled. Who else would lead with Greek words that happen to be the roots of philanthropy? I also was a little flattered the sender thought I was smart enough to see how clever they were.
But a moment later, I realized this was the problem with public broadcasting in 2020. The organization’s head tends to be stuck in a past when it often was the sole source of quality drama, documentaries and mindful children’s programming.
That near-monopoly ended with the dawn of cable TV more than forty years ago. In recent years, streaming services—which charge a user fee but have no interruption for commercials or fund-raising—have made for fierce competition.
So why do people like me continue to support public television? In my case, not because I’m smarter than everyone else. (Or even anyone else.)
It’s because I like some of the programs, many of which can be streamed. I think of my PBS contribution the way I think about the monthly fee for a service like Netflix. And there’s a dollop of nostalgia for the days when PBS really was unique.
For all that, organizations that fail to change with the times tend shrivel up and blow away. So what’s PBS to do? I hope they keep some of the shows I watch and the kid fare. But it seems to me there’s a crying need for expanded, objective news.
Sure, on the national level, there are three big cable news networks. But each deliberately puts a right or left spin on the news. I rarely watch.
Local TV news too often consists of a reporter shoving a microphone into the face of crime or disaster victims to ask how they feel. And, given consolidation within the industry, conglomerate owners often dictate a slant on much of the rest.
There are big obstacles to beefing up local and national news coverage, of course. Mostly money. Yeah, lots of money.
But expanded, straightforward new coverage is also an opportunity for PBS, if it wants to keep “viewers like you.” And me.
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10/31/2020
Anyone for a Good Listen? Ask and You Shall Receive
Is election week looking scarier than Halloween? When the stress and confusion start to wear you down, why not take refuge by listening to flash fiction?
Ask via the “Contact Us” form, and by email you shall receive a free recording of Yours Truly reading either or both of these stories:
Request either recording or both. The stories also are available on this site at no cost. So you could read along, if you want. Or just read.
Enjoy. Vote. Be safe.
10/25/2020
Leading by Example: A Memoir
Those who know me will be unsurprised to learn that I was as full of opinions in high school as I am now. Back then, during a time at least as fractious as this one, I shared those opinions in the pages of the student newspaper.
The paper’s gatekeeper was its faculty adviser, Mrs. G, who’d been a real journalist on a big-city daily. She didn’t preach the First Amendment, the cornerstone of American journalism. But she demonstrated it, never spiking any of my opinion pieces, even on topics as controversial as Vietnam and civil rights.
In fact, some of my work was reprinted in the Sunday bulletin of the parish that sponsored the school. The vice principal/football coach, a growler with a brush cut, even told a parent group he thought the paper’s editorials were the equal of the local big-city dailies. (They weren’t. But a nice shout-out, all the same.)
One day during my senior year, I pitched Mrs. G on devoting an issue of the paper to school matters, mostly critical opinion pieces by me and some other students about the way the place was run.
This was a parochial school…parochial in every sense of the word. During that era of miniskirts for women and shoulder-length hair for men, at our school girls’ uniforms skirts could not rise above a specific level, nor could boys’ hair be so long it touched their ears. Step a little out of line, and (if you were a boy) your backside might be introduced to the vice principal’s fraternity paddle.
Even respectful requests for changes in school policy were met with a simple, “If you don’t like it here, go elsewhere.” (Remarkably similar to “America: Love it or leave it,” a slogan popular among Americans who wanted other Americans to just shut the eff up.)
Mrs. G might reasonably have asked if I imagined that what the other students and I wrote would have more influence on school policy than my editorials had exerted on Congress, the president, or the United Nations. Or she might simply have said no. At that school, okaying content such as I proposed could conceivably have cost Mrs. G her job.
She let the other students and me publish everything we wrote—even a comment from the vice principal’s beloved football team captain, who called the school a “dictatorship.”
Pissed-off doesn’t begin to describe the vice principal’s reaction. It was one thing to criticize U.S. foreign or domestic policy. But the other students and I had, um…overreached in criticizing the school and, by implication, him.
He confronted me in the hallway, insisting the school was not a dictatorship. (While “dictatorship” was not my word but that of the football captain, in the moment it seemed imprudent to correct the record.)
That same afternoon the vice principal decreed that the student paper would henceforth be subject to his review prior to printing. Because, of course, censorship is not a distinguishing characteristic of dictatorships.
I wondered if I might get detention or even be introduced to the vice principal’s fraternity paddle. But, other than that tongue-lashing, there were no real repercussions for me or any of the other students. Most of us got pretty good grades and never had caused any real trouble. A few were student leaders. And we hadn’t gone rogue. Per the rules, Mrs. G had signed off on everything.
I don’t know exactly what happened to her. There must have been some tense moments with school administrators. But Mrs. G didn’t lose her job, although she left a couple of years later on her own terms to teach at a different school—a place with a much better academic reputation.
Soon after I graduated, my alma mater hired a new principal who allowed at least a little more wiggle-room for students. And, I think, she curbed the vice principal’s romance with that paddle. (At least, I hope so.)
In the years since, I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t always come at tough decisions the way Mrs. G did.
But it wasn’t for lack of a role model.
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10/15/2020
“On Moving On”—Where the Pieces Came from
Sometimes, readers ask where a story comes from. Often, the most honest answer is, I don’t know. But I do know sources of some parts of “On Moving On:”
For me the real question—the one for which I have no answer—is why those elements came together as they did in this story. For that, props to my subconscious. (I guess.)
Something else curious. It wasn’t until a near-final revision that I added the lines at the very end:
In the bedroom, Price is arranging the sweater on the plush pad he uses for a bed. I consider taking the sweater away from him.
I let Price doze peacefully...
A reader observed, “…Price gets hold of the sweater as if telling the [main character] not to throw everything of Pearl's out in his grief.”
That hadn’t occurred to me, but I think the observation is spot-on. "Moving on" doesn't have to mean removing all traces of a loved one. Usually, it shouldn't.
Sometimes even authors don’t really understand their stories until someone else explains.
Thanks to that reader, and all of you!
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10/5/2020
Because the world is way too much with us
Pandemic. Social Unrest. Political discord. A president in the hospital.
The world is way too much with us.
So this week, just for fun and because it's October, a vampire story: The only Good Vampire.
Really short, too.
Stay safe, everyone.
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To read the three stories mentioned in this blog, click on the title links above
9/28/2020
Three-Pack: An Experiment
This is an experiment. See what you think, and let me know, okay?
This time, instead of an individual story, the site features a three-pack of narratives that share a common element. In this case, aging characters.
By way of background, in my reading I began to pay more attention to characters in their sixties—yeah, people like me. Most fictional elders I came across served as mentors, tormentors, and so on. Foils for younger protagonists working through their issues. Often, stories like these focus on the misery of the younger person who witnesses the elder’s decline.
Like a lot of others, I’ve been that younger person. Tough stuff.
But what about the person inside that failing body, that decaying consciousness?
Full disclosure: I’m fine health-wise. And like a famous politician, I too managed to ace the cognitive exam during my most recent annual checkup. Still, I decided to try to get inside the heads of declining elders. To write stories with them as main characters.
As in the three stories you’ll find here:
Elegy. The main character is a retired professor of Anglo-Saxon literature. He understands that he can no longer depend on what his mind tells him. Still, he tries to find a way to reconcile with his son—a struggle he thinks of as similar to that of Beowulf, the most famous Anglo-Saxon hero.
Final Thoughts. A man has only a few more hours to live, and he knows it. Even so, he finds himself curious. What will his final thought be? He hopes for something big, something important. I think that happens for him, even if he doesn’t quite realize it. What do you think?
Bigger Lies are Coming. The main character’s long-time friend is in the late stages of dementia. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but this guy discovers he has some issues of his own.
What you think of groupings like this? Would you like to see more in the future?
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To read the three stories mentioned in this
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