We Are Better Than...

the long view

      Watching the world is easy out here, close to the edge of the planet. 
      In full disclosure, we're in a retired herd, and free ranging between the poles of Los Angeles and San Francisco. As we watch the world shut down and try to get back to normal, we see things others may not and there are reasons for that.
     The wide open space out here, gives us room to think and time to ponder. Population is sparse, the sky is big and there is room to put things into perspective.
     A lot of us "have been there, done that," doers, players, even power players and movers and shakers from a time before Trump and time before the virus. Experience matters.
     When I broke into a big city newsroom in the late 60's, my mentor was an old newspaperman in his 70's. He'd seen it all. 
     "You'll see everything," he said. "Like the good book says, 'nothing new under the sun' just different names."

      

    I wrote about Bob Hoover in a September 29, 2016 post that you can link to here. Born in 1898 Bob lived through the Spanish Influenza pandemic. He was a musician at the time and became a reporter in 1918. Bob said it was good to listen, especially to the old people, because they had seen and done a lot and had survived. 
    I listened to Bob. There was a time when the culture listened to and even revered "old people." Not sure that is so anymore.
    If you scratch hard enough at the drive to "reopen" the economy, you will find an element that places economic recovery as a higher priority than the well being of those who are most vulnerable; geezers, gray panthers, boomers, old people, seniors, whatever we're called and those with health issues, not all of whom are aged. I suspect it is more an unintended consequence than a malicious act, although there is a lot of "OK Boomer" these days.
     It probably cannot be avoided. Economic collapse does severe harm and we must be about making repairs. If we had been led by a fit, qualified, experienced leader, we would have been better prepared, more proactive and could have moved to isolate the most vulnerable, prevent overwhelming hospitals and still maintain some work and commerce. It is too late for that now and in some of the clamor to reopen there has been a strain of something dangerous.  
     Before we wade into that, we pause for a moment at San Simeon Creek, babbling its way to the Pacific. The visual rhythm of a mountain stream is refreshing. 
    

masks are about health and safety

    The decision to wear a mask, or not, is about health and safety. Masks, social distancing, and isolating at home helped California and other places avoid over loading hospitals as happened in Italy, New York, New Jersey and elsewhere.
     In a twisted and sad way, some try to make mask wearing, or not, a political statement. That is wrong headed and indicative of the toxic and divisive nature of Trump leadership. Masks protect. Everyone!
     Trump supporters are mob thinkers, easily led, blindly loyal, neither encumbered with nuance, nor bothered by efforts at reason. They don't need facts, their leader will tell them what is fake. 
      The leader is arguably the most aggressive liar in history. He takes an unapproved medicine and many follow suit. He does not deign to wear a mask and they've made that a battle line. They are fools, following a fool and they are with in their rights. That's how it works.
      A friend from college days, a successful attorney and historic litigator wrote from his mountain home back east-
     "This Trump stuff is crazy beyond words. The right wingers who won't stay at home and won't wear masks I hope become infected. Since natural selection is the driving engine of evolution, maybe it will all work out and they will be eliminated from the gene pool."
      He went on to say he hopes they hold their convention where they will be self corralled and infecting each other."
     He was never one to mince words.

       

follow the leader

     

 Life teaches. A good leader is always ready to reach down and lend a hand, especially when you are in deep

and struggling.

we need a cure

   We are better than who we have been in the last four years. The US needs a cure. The US needs a vaccine to prevent a second wave of Trumpism. It is a malicious, selfish, divisive, corrupt, fascistic and unAmerican movement that is a virus in the body politic. It is a government of fraud and failure with blood on its hands. Ignorance is the currency and loyalty to a sick man is the tool of survival.

    Firing 4 Inspectors General in just weeks is evidence of a dangerous mindset and a threat to the structure of the United States government.  It is a move by a would be dictator to obstruct constitutional balance of power. He want's unchecked, unchallenged power and that cannot be allowed. 

   It is fitting that in years and decades hence the Trump years will be known as the years of the Virus. As terrible as he is, as historically failed as he has been, he will play second banana to a virus. Covid-19 gets top billing. A century later, Trump may be only an asterisk. 

    By now the only thing that might change that is if he were to set his hair on fire on Fifth Avenue. No one would stop him. At least no one in a mask.

    

for the mask wearers of the world

the Diane rose
from a Cambria magic garden

      John Chancellor, the late NBC journalist said "being a reporter is like being a fire horse, you always want to answer the bell." 

       All of those years of assignments and deadlines have driven how I have attacked and consumed information, data, reporting and science over these last weeks. I've been keen to watch how governors, communities, medical groups and others have reacted. 

       The virus and the shutdown has revealed how fractured we are. Singularly it exposes how broken this version of capitalism is, and how wealth distribution is abusively wrong and incomprehensibly unfair. 

        We are better than this. The notions of fairness, equality, compassion, and greatness have been in us historically. It is time to be guided by better angels, those same angels Abraham Lincoln invoked in his first inaugural

   "We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it, must not break out bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." 

     See you down the trail.

THE SHIFTS

   While we seem be damned by current political attitudes,  profound changes are right behind us. We ponder views and the attitudes that drive them, after we first fog it up.

 Going over the Santa Lucia pass toward Paso Robles I was struck by how Morro Rock, Mt. Hollister and a couple of other volcanic peaks seem to be adrift in a sea of clouds.

 Fog moves quickly this time of year, one of the wonders of living along the Pacific.

big sur tribute

    As Big Sur remains isolated and inaccessible we are mining the archive to help those of us with a Big Sur jones.

     Fog and Big Sur are like Coffee and sugar-

We feel sorry for visitors who pick a day to drive Highway 1 when fog rules

      It moves quickly, literally before your eyes.

    

   Future posts will feature more of the Big Sur file as we lament its current status of being off limits.

  the political fog

   We should all be troubled by Secretary of State Tillerson's comment he is "not a big media access guy."
     The secretary needs to understand he is no longer a private CEO/Chairman of the Board dealing in a corporate world. He is a public employee, an official appointed by the President but responsible to the American tax payer for whom he works. This job is bigger than him and requires process and transparency.
     Tillerson's refusal to travel with at least a press pool instead of hand picking one journalist is unacceptable. It is wrong and dangerous, even more so given the pronouncements of the irrational liar and lunatic who appointed him.

here comes heart burn for non progressives

    The much maligned millennials are about to have their way. Those who are 19-35, the largest component of the Bernie Sander supporters now number some 75.5 million.

    They are a generation raised on disruption, new ways of working, living and a decidedly socialist cultural and political lean. The same goes for their younger siblings Generation Z who total some 77.9 million-they are 18 and younger but in the next two election cycles will become a force as well. Add them to the 65.9 million Gen X'ers, 36-51, and the tables have not only changed, but it is a new game. 

     Millennials and Gen Z bring such profound change to the political landscape that Boomers and the generation immediately preceding may not recognize the social landscape.

      They are decidedly more egalitarian, color blind, accepting of sexual and gender identity selections and differences, ethnic diversity, in favor of economic equality, globalism, defenders of the environment, suspicious of corporations and to such a degree as to render much of traditional political practice irrelevant. 

      One of them just sold his business to CNN for $20 Million. He has a daily vlog (video blog) with 6 million subscribers and more than 1.3 billion views. He's also been hired to be the front man for a multi billion dollar global corporation's advertising.  Here is a look at  the kind of style, cultural and political attitude that may decide the next presidential election.
      Hear what Casey Neistat has to say to "haters and doubters" and pay attention to the Titanic and Iceberg analogy. Listen to the attitude...and consider their massive numbers. Bye bye trump land..

         See you down the trail.

Prescription-Mellow

Happy Hour Morro Bay, Ca

Halter Ranch Vineyard, Paso Robles appellation

      At risk of sounding self evident, everything is relative.

      I was sinking into depression as I read a favored blogger who lamented his approaching turn to 61. He reflected how quickly the last year passed and how in just a few more quick passes he will be 70 when he noted it will be "hard to ignore the reality," the reality of which he wrote are "the intimations of mortality!"  Gosh, thanks a lot pal!

      I raised it at coffee after a 90 minute tennis slug fest with another elder boomer and a couple of battlers a few years ahead. The gents in our circle on the coffee deck at Lily's are of a similar age. We noted village elders in their 90's who are dynamos of activity, including tennis and pickle ball and civic groups. The number of 80 somethings who run, play court games, lawn bowl, hike, kayak, bike, dance or find romance are too numerous to count. 70 year olds are like the 40-50 year old's back east, with full engagement in everything, including surfing that stretches the body in extraordinary ways. 60 year olds here are teeny boppers. 50 and below are the kids.
      Our "circle of wisdom" agreed that attitudes about age in our village on the Central California Coast are schematically different than those back east. Given the blessing of health, age is relative, and relatively younger here. Or so we have convinced ourselves. 

       You could argue that we are surrounded by beauty, without freeways, urban sprawl or high density humanity. True and that helps but one of the youngest people I know is our friend Tod, who lives in the heart of New York City. A dancer, choreographer, artist and renaissance thinker, Tod has mentored generations of creative spirits. He is north of 80 but his passion for life, learning and expression makes me think he has the fountain of youth on tap in his kitchen. It is a mind set, like so many of our friends here. 
      In Indianapolis I served on the board of an historical, Presidential Home and was surprised when two powerful and influential men, still fully engaged, needed to retire from the board when they reached 65. They had years of experience and yet had years of service to give, but "retirement age" was a custom, part of the cultural mores. 

        Relativity-age and vitality, creativity and passion, setting and culture. If fate smiles health upon you, the calendar need not imprison or limit. I wish my mid-western Geezer writing friend good recovery from a blown knee, success in his goal of walking every street in his city and 9 years to get younger so when he reaches 70 he won't be thinking of the end of things but rather the continuation of the sweetness and opportunity that comes with each sunrise. 

harvest is for grapes

    Grape growers and wine makers expect an earlier harvest this year. In some vineyards, that means soon.

          From the "captain of the watch," Cheers!

    See you down the trail.

DIFFERENT CLIMES DIFFERENT TIMES

GOING BACK

   Though he meant it differently, Thomas Wolfe's title You Cant Go Home Again has been nagging around the edge of my mind. A deeper dive into that in a moment, but I wonder if some of you don't find yourself wrestling with Boomer Blues, prompted by the signals that life moves without regard to our wish that good things not change? 
   Here's the trail of this chain of thoughts;  We're back on the West coast after a couple of magnificent weeks with eldest Kristin and her friend Richard.  Magnificent because we cherish family time and because hospitality, weather and relaxation were extraordinary.

    Reading, relaxing, napping and not always in that order.

     The tropical clime, warm trade-wind breezes, balmy evenings and lack of drought created a comfortable cocoon from which to cogitate and reflect.

    It struck me that I've adopted a Cambria drought tolerant ethic. A quick and passing tropical drenching was a magnificent symphony of senses. But I felt guilt at showering at length or watching plants being watered. 

 Naples is nothing if not elegant and caloric. This calorie issue is a fault line of concern for a boomer jock.

   A jaunt to Ft. Lauderdale between the Atlantic and the Intracoastal Waterway provoked thoughts about  extraordinary wealth and spending of some of the 1%. For a journalist of Scot's heritage, that can inspire what is a full on rumble of pondering and argument.

   But it was the return to our beloved Sanibel Island that drove me into the land of the Thomas Wolfe -You Can't Go Home Again permutation.  Sanibel has always been a special home, a place of great joy and celebration, setting of two of my novels and where we once owned a home.

     We'd visit these rare Gulf beaches, seeking refuge from winter. Our girls grew from tots to mature women, shelling with their mother, building sandcastles with their dad and preparing for dinner at our special places like Jean Paul's and The Mad Hatter. Family vacations came at the end of month long countdowns, filled with anticipation.

    Getting to the island, a rare east west barrier reef island that is mostly wildlife preserve, was always a tonic for the soul. It always meant renewal and celebration with friends.

    But this year was different. The joy and luster was missing. Certainly the serious health concerns of dearest friends, the complexities of aging and the changes wrought by time imposed themselves.

  As we strolled the expansive beach, pausing where we spent so many springs in celebration, it was not joy, but a sadness over a mysterious loss that I felt.  

    Perhaps the Pacific serenade of my Cambria has weakened the magic song of the Gulf. The sun is bright still, the colors are vivid, and it is more green than my California when our sparse rainy season ends, but it just isn't the same.

   But neither am I.  I am older, my children are women, too many friends face health issues, some are gone. The career I took respite from on the Gulf beaches, is past and now seems of much less value that I once gave it. Life's order of things has changed.
   I wondered if I was slipping into a melancholy or depression. Was I somehow cheating the zest of life? No, I argued with myself. Concern for friends, sadness at loss, the inexorable movement of time are all part of the journey. There too is the truth that we cannot go back, we  do not recapture youth. And thus, memory is a gift. That is how we visit where time does no harm. 
    Our task then is to create new memories, as vibrant as we may. In that way the good old days remain good though old and as my Island friend Dave said, "we celebrate each day."

See you down the trail.

GOT FREEDOM? THE WEEKENDER

LIKE A BUSMAN'S HOLIDAY

    A favorite stop in Washington-The Newseum.  An incredible display of history told through the lens of journalism, it is also a temple to the First Amendment. The message reads clearly in the neighborhood.

  A current exhibition is a moving look at a pivotal moment in the life of boomers.

    Riveting clips of television coverage of the historic moments highlight the powerful exhibition.

   Another emotional stop is the memorial to journalists, killed in the line of duty.

    A stroll provides a glimpse of the Washington Monument

under scaffolding.

 There is still middle ground in Washington.

     See you down the trail.