IS IT WRONG TO DISCRIMINATE AGAINST A GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLE?

ANSWER THE QUESTION GOVERNOR

     Those of us with Indiana ties have been busy the last several days following the avalanche.

      Since Indiana Governor Mike Pence signed the Religious Freedom Restorations Act (RFRA) we've been watching years of progress unspool.

      From a purely good government point of view, Mike Pence has failed, aided and abetted by politicians who are more interested in personal or political agendas than they are concerned about what is best for the state.

      It's been a media carnival. Companies are to stop to doing business there. Celebrities, politicians, educators, scholars and citizens are embarrassed and decry the event. Charles Barkley has even suggested the NCAA, which is headquartered in Indianapolis, pull the Final Four out of there. In the meantime, the NCAA is in emergency mode and distressed by the Governor's signature. Millions of dollars of convention trade and other business may wash out of Indiana. Three thousand people marched to the State House. 

      The stupidity of the Governor in signing the bill is trumped by the idiocy of his not listening to a chorus of people who warned him about it. Intelligent minds, business leaders, mayors, chambers of commerce, ministers, academics and legal scholars tried to wave the ambitious Mr. Pence away from signing. 
      It is a cynical political bill that seeks to take advantage of a loophole in Indiana code that does not specifically protect gay and lesbians from discrimination. Pence and his supporters won't acknowledge that. 

      There is a strong right wing and evangelical current that runs through Indiana and they have been apoplectic about recent advances in human rights that extend marriage, union and freedoms to LGBT people. Despite all of the "defense" that, "gee, we are only doing what the federal government did under Bill Clinton" their argument is instead the product of that California specimen pictured above.

     I've known Mike Pence since before he was a radio talk show star with political aspirations. Mike ran and lost over a a few years but he continued to learn how to play to a base. He was eventually elected to congress and left radio politics behind. Mike has been a clever media student. Though a little "slick" for my tastes he was smart in mastering "messages," but he blew it on ABC.

      5 or 6 times George Stephanopoulos gave the Governor a chance to answer a straight yes or no, "Can an Indiana business refuse to serve a gay or lesbian?"  Each time Governor Mike weaseled out of it, trying to turn the shame of the situation back onto an hysterical media. Again and again he was asked for a straight answer. He could have moved the issue a long way with an answer, but he was defensive, not candid. That in itself speaks volumes about what is wrong in Indiana.

     One of Pence's supporters, a right wing evangelical political power broker, with a long history of worrying about non heterosexual matters, opined as to how the RFRA will now empower people to refuse to serve gays or lesbians, if they feel their religious beliefs would be violated in doing so. He has influence and sway in the Indiana legislature. The legislation is in lock step with an obstinate mindset.

    There has been plenty of legal scholarship and debate on this measure. Many who supported the legislation Bill Clinton signed now say they regret it or that it wasn't necessary. But in Indiana, and probably in Arkansas, Mississippi, Arizona and other places of such "enlightenment" and intellectual vigor, the RFRA is a backdoor defensive block to the extension of human rights to people right wing evangelicals think are "sinful."  

     The Indiana bill creates confusion, lacks focus and will set up conflicts. That may be part of the intended flack. Scholars say it affects the delicate balance between religious liberty and other rights that was already in place after years of federal and state legislation, history, practice and precedence. Religious liberty is not strengthened by this ploy and is probably weakened by placing stresses on the precious balance that has been achieved and respected. Scholars argue that has been the history of RFRA laws.

     Mike Pence must not be as smart as I thought he was, or he is  blinded by political ambition and panders to the extreme religious right. Either way he is now the captain of the ship that may well sink decades of improvement that was inspired by and then presided over by people like Richard Lugar, William Hudnut, Steve Goldsmith, Bart Peterson, Bob Orr, Otis Bowen, Frank Obannon, Mitch Daniels and countless other Republicans and Democratrs who assisted these mayors and governors who worked to create a climate of progress in Indiana. Those bi-partisan and practical combined objectives for Indiana did not aspire to be on the Pence list of cronies-Mississippi, Arizona, Alabama, etc.

    The current Indianapolis Mayor and those of large Indiana cities were among the chorus who warned Governor Mike to toss the bill into the trash.  Instead it is Indiana that is being trashed.

     I've heard from many Indiana friends, including Republicans who are angry, embarrassed and fearful of what happens to a state they have served and for which they have aspirations. The bill was ill conceived and the state was ill served by the Governor's signature. Maybe Pence's presidential ambitions and the state's retrograde image can be halted by an "Indiana Spring."  
     An intellectual, moral, economic and political twilight could halt what has been three of decades of genuine advancement and a heady private-public participation. It is time for the light of decency and intelligence.
     

    See you down the trail.

LIGHTS AT THE CASTLE and BETWEEN TAKES ON THE TODAY SHOW-BACK THEN

YULE NIGHTS

 We had the good fortune of an invitation to see the Christmas decorations at San Simeon, the Hearst Castle.

   It is a visual blitz of texture, detail and history.

 Halls are decked.

 The juxtaposition of the tapestries hint at multi dimensional story lines.

 The kitchen is a world unto itself.

  It was a windy and foggy night on the mountain as we moved around the massive grounds.

   

A visit to the indoor pool, beneath the tennis courts, 
before our drive down the mountain to reality.

Some nights as I stand gazing at the deep star field arching from the coastal mountains to the wide sea it's easy to imagine that six miles up the Pacific coast the Hearst Castle is a door to another world. Crossing the threshold is magical.

THROWBACK 

JANE PAULEY & TOM

   The Today Show broadcast live from Indianapolis in the mid '80s.  As the local NBC affiliate anchor we did live reports around the NBC Today Show live telecast.  During a break Jane Pauley and I chat.  We were friends from her pre television days in Indianapolis.  We shared a high school speech and debate instructor as well.  Jane remains one of the most authentic people who have achieved great celebrity. 

HUNGERING FOR MORE?

    The Hunger Games Mocking Jay is not as good as the first two films in what has now become a franchise. Jennifer Lawrence is still exceptional as is Donald Sutherland as the contemptible character President Snow. Julianne Moore was especially good in this installment. Woody Harrelson, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Elizabeth Banks continue in their well portrayed character roles. Same for Josh Hutcherson and Liam Hemsworth. Acting is not the issue, it is the thinning of impact and weakening of integrity that happens when a good idea gets overplayed.  

    Hunger Games was always about being a commercial success, but the narrative theme and social comment woven into the dystopian drama had more impact in the first book and films. Now it is beginning to feel like serial and as good as she is, we know Lawrence is capable of more than the script is giving her.

    Still, there are moments. The frightening politics of a too powerful state, of huge economic gaps, of surrendered liberties and a manipulative media are still vivid. I also thought of Syria, Iraq and Libya when viewing the affect of war on communities.  

    It's time to resolve this conflict, for liberty and justice to prevail and for Donald Sutherland/President Snow to get his smug face and well coiffed beard stomped in the muck, at least. On further consideration, it may be those widening economic divisions that undergirds the sense of justice that flys with the Mocking Jay.

   See you down the trail.

A COUPLE OF CHRISTMAS GHOSTS

DECEMBER DREAMING
and ghosts-see below

WHERE THE PAST LIVES

     Snow had turned to freezing rain and the old wiper blades spread a smear of icy trails across the windshield. It was dark but the snow covered road shone in the headlights courtesy of the glaze of ice. It was late Christmas Eve and I seemed to be the only car on the highway and now on this county road.

      I saw the old beater off the road to the right with the hood up when a dark figure stepped around from the front of the car and stood there. It did not beckon or wave but  simply watched me approach as though resigned to see me drive by. The headlights caught the visage of an older black man in a threadbare overcoat. Ice crystals matted into his hair. He appeared surprised I was pulling the old Studebaker over to park behind his even older car, I think it was an Oldsmobile.  As I started to alight he walked toward me wearing a smile that shone.

     I had worked late at the commercial radio station in a city some 60 miles away. While my college was on holiday recess, I needed to be back at the station the next morning to sign it on at 6:00 AM. The winter storm had slowed my progress to get home to my parents house to spend a bit of Christmas. I knew my parents and brothers were probably concerned about my travel in the snow and ice. This was long before cell phones or adequate snow clearing equipment on county roads or state highways.

     Something "froze up" he said.  He was on his way to his daughter's house with part of their Christmas Eve meal.  He'd been there "a while" he said and the few cars that had passed slowed down, but sped by "when they got a look at me."  A black man on a county road.  

     He was headed for a neighborhood near the downtown of Indianapolis, a neighborhood I would not normally frequent nor drive through.  We chatted about how our Christmas fates had put us together as we navigated the ice covered road that led to suburban streets which in turn fed us into the car lined streets of old houses, commercial buildings and vacant lots.  Lights gleamed from windows, rimmed with Christmas decorations.  We chuckled at how a few of the homes had painted snow scenes on windows or doors.  No need for that now as the ice had turned back to snow and the drive crunched on.

     His daughter and son in law looked curiously out the door and then came down the steps when they saw the old man get out of the car. They were visibly surprised to see a young white man get out of the other door.  

     Two or three little faces peered out of the large window on the porch, their eyes were wide.  "Those little angels are my grand children," the man said, his smile even wider now.

     Both the old man and his son in law went to their billfolds as though to offer me money.  No way I said. It's Christmas Eve.  I'm just being a Santa's helper I added, looking at how other doors were opening and seeing people appear in windows.  The daughter wanted me to come in and warm up, have something to eat. I explained my family was waiting and I needed to get on.  We shook hands and his big grin had a special quality of that caused a tingle in my chest.

       As I picked my way back to the suburbs the aroma of the dish that had rested on the back seat continued to fill the car. It had a sweet scent that activated my hunger sensors and I began to think about my parents and brothers and how I hoped they had dined.

      When I made it to the driveway Dad was first out of the door, as Mom stood behind him, in her apron.

       "We were very worried about you," Dad opened the Christmas Eve conversations.

       Later when I had relayed the story and we had begun to eat the feast Mom prepared, I noticed she was sitting there, looking a bit distant, but smiling.

       "You did the right thing," Dad said, "but you took a chance in doing it."

        I never confessed my nervousness, in making the stop or driving into that neighborhood. It was the mid '60s and times were different.

        A ghost that visits me this time of year is that picture of Mom, sitting there and smiling. Later, and she would often remind me of the story, "you were a Christmas angel for that man."

        At least I was a young white lad who saw another traveler and realized color makes no difference. 

       The other ghost I recall is that heart warming smile. It spoke more than words.

        See you down the trail. 

BUT THE MEMORIES SURVIVE AND A REQUIEM FOR OLD TREES

THEY CAN'T TEAR DOWN THE MEMORIES

Photo courtesy and copyright Rob Goebel-The Indianapolis Star

   It was jarring to see what is left of the administration building of the old Weir Cook, later Indianapolis International Airport, a place I spent a lot of time as a reporter. 

    It was there I met Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek,  had my first meeting with Fred Friendly of CBS News/Ed Murrow fame, caught my first glimpse of Barry Goldwater, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan and many other luminaries.

    The conference room was an easy spot for news crews to assemble and catch the famous he or she before they headed off. It was also the place I watched as directors began the process of dreaming the new ultra modern airport that doomed that very building.  

     The old giving way to the new, it is a cadence of life. 

        

REQUIEM

    Wilderness areas of the central California Coast are rich with ancient trees.

      Some are massive. As they come to the end of their sentry era, they sill afford visual power.

   As our pines reach the end, they go out with a last hurrah, creating a bonanza of cones.

    And in life or demise some of these giants play to the imagination.

  I wonder; as the old ad building held memories, do these old giants hold memories of the Salinan, Chinese or ancient explorers of this coast? 

  See you down the trail.

ON THE VONNEGUT TRAIL-

SO IT GOES

     "The walkway is ending, watch your step, the walkway is ending, watch your step, the walkway is ending, watch your step...." The recorded voice was a metronome rising above the din of an airport that wobbled someplace between dread and manic as a dust storm pounded outside.

      I'm parked on one of those courtesy columns, recharging a phone and trying to reach my friend the Catalyst to see what is his read on the duration of the storm that has stopped flights into and out of Phoenix.  The metronome voice is like a machine gun over my shoulder, while a fellow just around the column is listening to a boomingly loud and dramatically affected Spanish language broadcaster call a Soccer match. He reacts effusively in what can best be described as the odd spawn of a chortle and a nasal guffaw. The parade of humanity marches down the terminal as in tribute to the Zombie apocalypse. Mouths agape, trudging on, watching the dust give way to wind and rain as planes sit in motionless lines at the gates.
    The din is a stew of cell phone callers, parents yelling at kids, people bitching about missed connections, PA announcements on delays and gate changes and it all crescendos into a kind of giant moan-though it cannot drown out either the Soccer snorts and profundo or the metronome. And I keep getting, "all circuits are busy please try your call later." At large in America-on a kind of Vonnegutesque mission.  In fact I've been to the temple itself.

     There in the heart of the city where I pounded the street as a reporter, across the street from a bar that often offered cool retreat is the Vonnegut Library.  It is only 25 blocks from where I had my first encounter with the very Kurt himself and just 3 blocks from where the tape of that interviews resides in the environs of the Indiana Historical Society time safe. 

    Indianapolis has been enriched by the addition of the Vonnegut Museum and Library. Though the scion of a prominent Indianapolis family may have made some of his family crazy, he was to be embraced by a generation of Indiana readers, and even more world wide.

   They've created a replica of the room where so many of those thoughts were birthed.

   I got a kind of cosmic shock as I noticed all of the representations of an asterisk.  It is a Vonnegut trademark now.  Shock I say, because as a high school and later college student my notebooks were rich with asterisks. The pages full of them, as markers and as doodles. Even then I thought it a bit odd, but they continued to propagate. They riddled my class notes, long before I was reading Vonnegut.  

   My friend Frank, author of the Vinyl Stats blog, and I have often joked about "Vonnegut moments" ripping into the Hoosier ether.  Must be another one of those, like cosmic lightening. 

   Aside from great interactive data files and videos, Vonnegut books and books about him, there is also terrific Vonnegut art.

   My pilgrimage to the Vonnegut Library was my last stop before heading off for the Indianapolis International Airport after after a weekend pilgrimage of another sort... 

   There was also a visit with my famous trophy-I do not have custodial rights...

   Back in the day I was the first Indianapolis broadcaster to win a national Emmy.  It remains on display at my former employer.  I can stop to touch it however...

  There was also a reunion of fraternity brothers-25 years we have gathered at the end of summer.  Some are gone and now some struggle with health or that of their spouse. But it is a special friendship that deepens with the seasons

   To add another Vonnegut wrinkle to the weekend commemorating the Washington March and Dr. King's address, I met and heard Dr. Allan Boesak.  Boesak was a Mandela and Bishop Tutu ally, one of the leaders of the South African Anti Apartheid movement, often called the South Africa MLK. He more recently left the Reformed Church in protest over their discrimination of gay and lesbian people. I would be flying home to a local iteration of such.

   I never did get a clear circuit, the walkway never stopped ending, nor did the metronome voice, but the dust and rain ceased and we were able to ride below the stars and return to this ridge a mile from the Pacific.

    And as the man said...."so it goes...."

    See you down the trail.